Broken Swords
by T H E O V E R L O R D
Summary: This is the story of an unkown soldier in the Vietnam war. As he fights and kills for his his life and the lives of those around him his mind is forever changed in this bloody conflict.


The unknown Soldier

Calm, that's how I would describe it, my life before the war. I am sitting outside on a park bench. It is fall, the leaves are turning colour, red and orange. A stiff wind is blowing. Small whirlwinds of leaves are spinning and dancing round my feet. The clouds are all grey but there is no rain and they are racing across the sky with the wind as their horses. My eyes are non – blinking as I stare down Elm Street. Only a few people are walking down comforted from the cold in their large fall coats, but none of them are who I long to see.

Falling, always falling, my mind in a trap, a vice. I stare long and hard into the night. The moon paints the rubble filled streets of Hue with a dim light. At the very far end of the street a fire is blazing in some poor persons home. All it is to me though is a dime blaze, which stands out against the darkness. Gun shots echo across the city, machine guns crackle and pop and distant explosions rumble softly. I hate it here, I hate the enemy, I hate myself. The only thing that keeps me going is fear, fear of dieing. It's not just me everyone has it. I've seen men get the feet blown off and keep running on the stumps as far as they can because they're too scared to stop. I must keep going I mustn't give up not for myself but everything else, for the others like me in this hell we've labelled as war, for the citizens of Hue, and _for_ war.

I've been here in this exact position for four days, taking down enemy convoys and mowing down any infantry that come our way. The road is littered with their bodies and stained with their blood. Two trucks lie out of commission a little way ahead, completely bent out of shape both taken out with M79 grenade launchers. Out of one I can see a dead VC soldier hanging out the back, his arm outstretched as if reaching for one last hope of survival. Across his back is another soldier with half his face blown off from an M60 round. Nevertheless, we've taken our own casualties. We've lost four men one, blown to shit by a grenade another shot through the neck and the other two killed from various shots to various parts of the frail human body. Our ammunition reserves are in good shape though we could use more, we could always use more. I always feel when I hold my M16 and we march in a standard line formation that all this is only pricking the surface of our enemies numbers that if we are going to do something to end all this we need something big like in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but then my sense of morality kicks in and I am returned.

A Verray light shoots up from the other side of the apartment building that lies ahead of our position and the street in front of me is suddenly light up as if it were day. Suddenly I can hear dozens of screaming, yelling hollering voices and in unison gun shots ring out. Bullets pepper our sandbag wall as a force of NVA or possibly VC rise up from the ground and come running at us guns blazing bayonets equipped and ready. Their screams tear at me, I can feel their anger and hate for me, the hate that is only brought about through war, senseless merciless, deadly. My mind is in a state of panic and all I can do is fire back. I pull back hard on the trigger of my rifle and one by one in lighting succession the bullets are pumped out. I don't even have to aim and neither do my fellow Americans. All of us are just firing. The M60 to my left is loudest of all, firing tracer rounds into the crowd. The streets are narrow and the attackers are struggling to step over the dead bodies, but they slip on the soft rotting skin. One by one two by two they fall, I can see bullets pump into them, one swings his left shoulder back as he is struck by a projectile and then nearly flips head over heels has his skull is imploded by the M60. A grenade explodes in front of out position and I jump slightly but quickly continue to maintain my fire. Accurately, I have started firing semi – automatic. I see one of my rounds rip open a man's neck and falls loosely onto another body. Why won't they retreat? Can't they see they are being slaughtered? Swatted down like insignificant flies. Does anyone care? Will anyone weep for any of them? Will I think about them after this is over? Will I care?

Everything is shaking. It's all a blur as bullets whip by my head. The man next to me drops as he is struck in the chest. He isn't dead. I want to help him, but before I can react an NVA soldier jumps up atop my section of the sandbag wall. He swings upwards with his rifle, the long sadistic bayonet slices open my shoulder and I reel back in pain. Instinctively as I fall on my back I channel all my energy into my arms aim my assault rifle up, flick it back to full auto and pull the trigger. He is right over me now, the light from the verray light is silhouetting him and I fear him even more like he is some sort of monster from a horror film. He is holding his bayonet over his head ready to strike down and stick the blade into me and wrench it around in me until I slowly die with pain and fear and his murderous expression as my only fair well before I pass into darkness. I can see the malice in his eyes, he hates me I hate him; I am going to kill him. Ten rounds are pumped out and as they all strike into the Vietnamese soldier he twitches back and forth as if doing some crazed dance, skin, blood and tissue are all popping out of him as if from the inside out as he slowly dies. I finish my magazine, steam and heat rise from the barrel. As if hesitating, the man stands there he is limp his arms now at his side, he drops his rifle, it hits the ground hard making a metallic clanking, falls back against the sandbag wall and lies there slumped up against it. Dark, crimson blood soaking his shirt, the hate in his eyes is gone, replaced with a cool calm, which is just dead. There is no life left in him, he is gone, and the fight still rages.

I get up, I have forgotten about the gaping wound in my shoulder. The pile of bodies is even higher now. Quickly I dispose of my empty cartridge and slide in a fresh one, and pick where I left off. Finally the last dozen or so are fleeing into the night, I take down two of them with short, sustained bursts and the man with the M79 fires his weapon with its trade mark VWHOOMP! Moments later blackened concrete, smoke, dust and two fleeing soldiers are tossed into the air. The men are flung sideways in opposite directions and hit the ground hard. The rest make it out alive, as the verray light goes out and we are pitched back into darkness.

I live in Utah with my mother and my sister. My father left us when I was young and I never truly knew him. All I can remember of him is a shaky blur that sometimes manages to find its way into the corners of my memory. I am 21, and my sister is only 12. We live just outside what I have always come to think as a miniature model city called Adler. I think of it as a miniature city because it has population of about 40 thousand which to me is like a city in training. I live with my mother because she old, ill and can't make it on her own. She needs me to take care of her and I do without hesitation like a loyal son should sister is playing outside on the front lawn. I stand by the window and watch her. She seems so innocent and so care free under the beautiful bright sun. My mother walks over to me and looks at her with me.

"She won't stay like this. Once you leave she will have only me and I can do only so much for only so long."

She is dying of cancer and we know she does not have much longer. We received a letter in the mail just a few days ago informing me that I had been drafted.

"Maybe I can avoid it somehow."

"No, if your county needs you" She swallows "then you must go."

My mother was a strong believer in the cause of the Second World War which most were for good reason and from that she gained a sense of loyalty to her country which can't be broken. I do not hold it against her; I too feel it and believe in the draft. The only reason why I didn't volunteer was because I couldn't leave my family.

This is peace; this is what I have always known.

"Get the fuck out of bed you god damn maggots!" Yelled drill sergeant Turco.

Hastily still half asleep I clamber out of bed in my standard white shirt and boxers, as does everyone else.

"You sons of bitches are in for some hell I can tell you that!" His voice thunders through all of us like some crazed German weight lifter on steroids pounding on some massive base drum from within us. I think he likes power "Get your skinny asses ready and in gear! On the double!" He never stops yelling. His throat must be soar. This is what I think as he yells at the top of his lungs. I do not fear him, and because of that I do not respect him. In war and politics fear should never be used as a control method, but in boot camp for the "instructor" it is all they have, and he has given me none of it.

The middle of the day, raining. We are doing push – ups because one man couldn't get the parade walk quite right, we don't hate him, but his constant mistakes are beginning to take too much of a toll for us to take. I am wet, tired and frustrated, I hate Turco. Something must have crawled up his ass and died I'm sure of it.

The man continues on a streak of screw ups for the rest of the week and beyond. He's costing us in every aspect and the men are getting restless.

The next day we are practicing our shooting on the firing range. I am firing my semi automatic M14. As I am reloading I look over to the grenade range. The soldier, who messed up before, primes a grenade, he takes a step forward to chuck it, the explosive is live and unbelievably he trips, he actually trips. He falls so fast that he has no time to throw it and he lands face first with the device still in his hand, there is a box of grenades right next to him. Turco bursts over to him and in one smooth motion rips the grenade from the trainees hand and tosses it, the weapon explodes harmlessly away from anyone.

There is hell to pay for all of us, again. His theory right from the beginning is that if he punishes all of us for one man's mistake then the man will do better, it is not working.

Night, he is lying in his cot, in the barracks. Two men slip out of their own cots. One is carrying a blunt object, I can't make it out from here but I'm not stupid I know what it's for. Suddenly one of the men grabbed his arm and pulled hard. The screw up was burst awake by the suddenness of the assault and hit the tiled floor hard before he had a moment to react, only his eyes were awake, wide with fear. A third man then came out from the cot next to the screw – up, took a white rag which he had tightly ringed and stuck it in the man's mouth to keep him from making too much noise. The man with the blunt object which as I could now see was a metal piece of one of the table legs from the mess hall. Two…three…four…five blows to the stomach and then he leaned down and whispered something into the man's ear, something incoherent that I couldn't make out not that it really mattered. Quickly the assailants dispersed and left the man to wail, and cry in pain on the floor.

The man's name was Michael Stimmell and I'm sure the assailant with the pole was private Corpello although I never actually saw his face. I do not blame them for what they did, it was harsh but it had to be done. After this Stimmell straightened up and was killed in his first week overseas.

Trucks are rolling past us through the gap in our sandbag wall that we have left for them. It is now morning and the sun has set itself high in the blue sky, that's one thing I do love about this country, is the sun the warmth of the weather, but rarely do I have time to appreciate it. Overhead I can see birds flying aimlessly there purpose is simply to live, up in the sky away from all this, but even the birds have to come down to the ground once in a while. The bodies of our fallen opponents have been moved to the sides, but the blood refuses to move. My wound was not as deep as I thought it was and after the fight it was bandaged by out medic, Lodawski. I'm not sure of his first name since I have never heard anyone refer to him with it and I have never bothered to ask. Everyone in the platoon refers to him either by his last name or Doc'. The trucks that are rolling past are filled with troops heading to more dangerous parts of the city and so are we. The last truck in the convoy is to take us near the US embassy, we are to dismount a little way away get there on foot and take it from the enemy. That's it that's all we have to do. Simple, but at the same time more complicated than I can imagine.

For one, we cannot assume that we will have the element of surprise. We have to assume that they know we are coming and that they know how we are going to attack. Also, no matter what plan of attack we come up with there is always the chance that they will anticipate this and counterattack. We have very little knowledge of their base defences except the obvious that they will have multiple machine guns and various small arms, just another day on the job. However, for now we do not think of these things. We will only worry about them when the time comes. A soldier lives for the moment. He cannot predict what will happen, and the more he worries about it the more likely something will go wrong. Caution holds little sway in war. The truck has arrived. A new platoon from our company piles out and we and pile on in. We do not feel relieved though, we are simply being moved to a new spot in hell.

That's what this place is, Hell, a classic analogy for anything concerning war. Where death, hunger, fear and depression reign where men who kill for a living go, but we are not murderers, most of us. Of course there are some who do not abide by the laws of warfare and kill for pleasure or kill and abuse women and children and innocent civilians but the majority of us are fighting to survive. I cannot speak for the enemy and I cannot speak for all of us but most of us are hear not because we truly believe in the cause or because we want to make our country proud but because this is all that is left for us. A lot of guys barely have an education and some just joined because they had no other direction to turn, that's why I joined, no talents no ideas for the future where else was I to go?

The streets are bumpy, and the trucks have to constantly slow down to avoid pot holes made by artillery. The distant gunfire that consumes the city still chatters non – stop and incessant. However it is now so natural I don't know how I ever lived without it and sometimes I don't even notice it.

Our truck rolls by the house that was on fire last night, by now it has gone out. Two dead bodies lay outside the doorway one lying face down the other sprawled out horrifically, both are riddle with bullets and neither are soldiers.

"God damn it." Says one of our rifle men, Corpello an Italian man with large fore arms and a history of picking fights. He always carries a set of brass knuckles with him although we are forbidden to do so, no one really checks until it is too late because no one really cares. We certainly don't, why would we want to show mercy to those who want to kill us? The ones who set barbaric traps in the jungle, who disgrace our dead, murder and rape. But are we all that different? Still though, he is a good soldier and a loyal member of our unit. "They probably had it coming though." He's also an insensitive asshole.

"How do you figure?" Asks Maleev our radio operator a mixed up hippy who volunteered for some fucked up reason he concocted involving peace all the rest of that bullshit those tree hugging crack heads whine about. He also has glasses, it seems that there is always one man with glasses and he is usually the radio operator, I'm not sure why.

"Well" Corpello continued "Why would they bother wasting ammunition on civilians? I mean they wear god - damned black pyjamas as a uniform!"

Maleev is looking at Corpello with a twisted disgusted face; there is no need for words we all know what he wants to say but he is about to say it anyways. "That makes no fucking sense you brain dead lunatic! First of all a few bullets aren't going to put much of a dent in VC or the NVA budget, second how do you know it was them? It could have just as well have been us you fucking idiot!"

Very loyal very patriotic Corpello is seething. Right now to him Maleev is a traitor and what he is saying is blasphemy even though he knows that it could very well be true.

"How about you shut the fuck up Maleev before I shove my foot up your tight little asshole."

Maleev smirks and simply pretends to find what Corpello says amusing like he doesn't care. He looks over the side of the truck not daring to meet Corpello's eyes. Between the two of them Maleev wouldn't stand a chance in a fight and he knows it and he knows Corpello wouldn't hesitate to start one no matter who with, even his own mother.

"Well then ladies I guess that's that then" Pipes in Swanson, the funny one as I have always thought of him although he wasn't so much funny as he was insensitive and liked to find humour in almost everything. There is a bit of a pause and then he adds in" So…when you guys gonna have some make up sex huhn?

Everyone in the trucks laughs, even though it wasn't really that funny a joke, but when in a situation such as this it's just what you do. Laughter is often one of the only things that keep any of us going, aside from booze, weed and dirty Vietnamese hookers laughter is the only thing that can let us forget where we are and even who we are which is important to us even if only for a moment. We are Human, we must never forget that, none of us should, soldier or not and Humans laugh.

For another twenty minutes we keep driving. Until we reach the drop zone. The rest of the convoy had departed a while back so it is only our three trucks carrying thirty – two soldiers. Captain Sturges is the first to lay his boots on the ground and he immediately starts barking orders like a starved dog. In a way he is. He was wounded back in 64' during the early days of the war. His platoon had been interrogating and searching a village around Da Nang, a small place, the kind of place the VC would use to recruit soldiers and hide in. As he questioned one of the villagers and angry old man came out from one of the hooch's and plunged and axe into the back of Sturges' head. Miraculously he survived. For four long, agonizing years he lay in a smelly, depressing, death infested military hospital waiting for his chance to get back at the enemy, which to him was the whole population of Vietnam. Aside from that though, he wanted glory. He wanted school children to read about him in their history text books as a hero of war and if he was fortunate enough, maybe even a statue in a park, egotistical Bastard. I have no idea however how he plans on doing this. I don't even think he does, he's probably just figuring that it will just happen, maybe it will.

He orders us into our squads and we comply hastily and start on our march. The embassy has a long stone wall all around the perimeter, which gives us excellent concealment, unless the enemy can see through matter. The wall is choked by long, twisting vines that look to me like bulging green veins. The plan of attack is fairly simple. Captain Sturges will lead two squads straight though the stone arch way in the middle and put pressure on the machine guns with the M60 and the blooper. The rest of us will divide up and go along the far ends of the wall, scale them, get over to the other side and attack the flanks. Hopefully they won't see that coming and maybe on one of the sides we can gain a foothold and get inside and clear it out. If we all went through the gate we would be cut down like a heard of cattle.

Anticipation builds in me, I cannot wait for the order to attack, but all the same I do not look forward to it. I am only eager because I want to get this over with and let whatever is going to happen, happen. I suppose in a sense that would make me a determinist.

"Delta six this is Bravo requesting armour over." Says Sturges over the radio, his voice commanding and deadly serious.

"_Negative Bravo no armour is available to you at this time over"_ Sturges is obviously disappointed and frustrated; he sighs and rubs his face.

"Copy that Delta Six, Bravo out." He passes the radio receiver back to Maleev "Let's get this over with ladies…GO!"

Sturges bursts into motion so fast no one notices for a moment, as he runs through the arch way even the enemy doesn't quite comprehend what he is doing at first and he makes it to cover, soon after the guns start opening up as the two squads follow in. The rest of us are just as quick to follow as the two squads are. Two men are hoisted over the top before me and then it is my turn.I sling my rifle over my shoulder, Corpello cups his hands for me to put my foot on, I do so and he hoists me up. As my head pops over the top I instantly take in my surroundings.

Sturges has already taken two casualties who both lay just outside the arch. The rest have taken cover in the shell hole and a few along with the M60 gunner have sheltered behind a mound of rubble. The M60 is barking furiously at one of the enemy machine guns in one of the ground floor windows and the enemy gunner in turn is attempting desperately to get a fix on him. Bits of concrete and dust pop out of the wall where the M60 rounds are hitting. The soldier with the blooper fires and destroys the second machine gun in on of the second story windows which has inexplicably seized fire.

That is all that I am able to see before I am forced over the edge and I fall into a group of withering bushes. Quickly I pull myself together, un - sling my rifle and begin to run over to the two who came before me. Both the men are stationed behind a broken down car and are firing at the enemies stationed in the windows. Divots shoot up around my feet as the enemy tries to pick me off. Zig – zagging I barely manage to avoid them and barely manage to keep my footing, luckily I do not have much of a distance to go. I slide in front of the car and sit up against it. I turn my head and look through the back window there is no glass in it. I can see a Vietnamese machine gun team carrying a type – 24 heavy machine gun through the bottom floor. One is carrying the large tri pod the other has the machine gun itself and a third has two large boxes of ammunition. The first one sets the tri pod down, the gunner then sets his weapon upon it. All that is left is to feed the ammunition. I butt my rifle against my shoulder, take aim and fire. Four rounds pick off bits of concrete around the gunner team but the ammunition is quickly fed into it, they are obviously experienced judging from their speed and they open fire. Powerful, high calibre rounds beat off the car denting the metal and sending off golden sparks. The fire suddenly shifts upwards and two men who have just scaled the wall are cut down and ripped apart in a bloody mess. But two have already made it to the car one has a M72. He starts to ready his weapon but he is nervous and under fire. He fumbles with the safety pins as bullets stream past, a grenade explodes a few feet away and he fidgets. Finally he telescopes it loads in a rocket, takes aim and is hit square between the eyes by the machine gun. He drops the launcher and falls back stiffly. The machine gun barks out another burst and another man next to me drops. I hear a whooshing noise overhead and in quick succession a mortar round explodes near Sturges. More continue to fall. Every time one hits the ground I can feel the shock rumble through my stomach. I'm not even thinking anymore, I drop my rifle and reach for the M72, hoist it over my shoulder, aim and fire. The back blast is powerful and I almost fall backwards. With a hiss and a squeal the rocket flies towards the window. The machine gun team begins to move but there is no time. The rocket hits the target and sets off an explosion. Fire, mixed with smouldering concrete and ash flies forwards and chunks of brick and plaster hit the car which I am still behind, the gun is down. I look behind me and several of my men are moving forwards. I ditch the now obsolete launcher and pick my M16 back up and mix myself in with the charge. Vietnamese infantry are still positioned in the windows firing down at us and two more men fall. Mortar rounds land all around me almost making me loose my balance, one man to my right is blown of his feet by one and is sent crashing into the wall of the embassy upside down. One of my squad mates lies down on the ground with his own M60 and begins to give us covering fire, it works and the enemy begin to fall back into the embassy. Corpello is a few meters to my right; he tosses his rifle as close as he can to the base of the building and pulls a grenade off his harness, pulls the pin, releases the trigger and throw it into one of the second story windows. The device explodes and fire explodes outwards sending debris to fall down on us and ping off our helmets, a body also falls out and like a rag doll collapses to the ground, charred and punctured by shrapnel from the grenade.

I hit the wall of the building hard as do the rest, Corpello picks up his rifle. We wait a moment for the rest to reach the wall before we start to crawl up through the bottom windows and move into the long hall way that runs horizontally through the front of the building.

The Firing continues outside, the enemy machine gun being the dominant sound, which can't be good. We move father into the building, I stop at a doorway and lean up against the frame, Corpello is on the other side. I crouch down and aim around the door frame. The hall is empty until a VC runs across the far end. I open up and fire a burst. He is shot three times and is pushed back up against the wall and slides to the ground. Corpello signals for the rest of the squad to move in. Three men go down all of them, rifles shouldered triggers ready. As they go down the right wall suddenly explodes and they are swept up in fire, smoke and debris. I run in as the dust settle and crouch down behind one who is struggling and screaming in pain. The explosion has torn a large hole in the wall, on the other side is a room filled with over turned desks and file cabinets. Three VC are running through. I open fire and take them all down. Corpello and what is left of the other three of our squads rush ahead of me. A machine gun opens up and they all drop down for cover and return fire. A Vietnamese soldier with an RPD is set up at the far side of the room behind a desk along with a few others armed with AK – 47s. Sergeant Strom orders me to go with my squad and find a way to flank them. Six men leave the room and we venture down the hall way past the dead man that I killed. He had come out of the room we were trying to clear and was about to enter another directly across from it. A corporal presses himself up against the door from frame aims in and yells "Clear!" We move past and make it to the end of the hallway. Corpello does the same at the corner but quickly pulls himself back as a dozen bullets rip holes in the wall and just barley miss his face.

"Assholes!" He yells. "Moore, frag that son of a bitch."

Private Moore moves up to the front, primes a grenade and through it down the hall. He stumbles back behind cover as a wave of bullets chases him. I can hear Vietnamese voices yelling just as the grenade goes off and fills the hall with smoke and debris. Without waiting Sergeant Strom orders three men to take the machine gun position and secure it. The rest of us go the other way and to the room we are trying to clear. We reach the door way, and a private raises his boot to kick open the door and before his boot can make contact dozens of bullets rip through the wood and tear into him. He looses his balance and crashes against the wall, blood smeared all over his uniform and the wall he is now propped up against, dead.

"Get a grenade in there!"

A private tosses a grenade into the room and it explodes. We move in and find only one survivor the rest are dead. The live one is lying on his back blood oozing from his mouth, shrapnel punctures all over his body. He extends his arm, three fingers are missing and his arm down to his elbow is drenched in blood. We put a trio of bullets into him and feel no more pain. It is a collective thing, killing this man, we all feel like we took turns in doing it, because if we hadn't been working together it couldn't have happened, we all did it and none of us regret it.

I stare down Elm Street, waiting patiently waiting. The street is now clear of all pedestrians. Save one who walks around the corner. It is her, my heart throbs in my chest as she comes walking down the street her long, brown elegant hair blowing in the cool wind, the multicoloured leaves dancing around her feet, she is beautiful, amazing I love her, but I worry if she loves me back. I know she loves me, but is she in love with me?

I can't wait; I stand up and start walking over to her smiling. She returns with a weak attempt, something is wrong and I know it, but I pretend like I don't notice anything. I reach her half way down the street, I hug and kiss her. He lips are warm in the cold, soft and memorable. She looks at me in the eyes, her brown eyes stare into my soul, and she knows this is going to be hard on me.

"We need to talk."

The whole platoon has made it into the final room of the embassy; it takes up the whole back of the embassy. We set up along the windows and begin to fire at retreating Vietnamese who are running through the back yard. The mortars are there to and the crews are also in flight. Only a few manage to get over the back wall the rest are cut down by our rifles.

"I can't be with you."

I can't understand the words that coming out of her mouth at first.

"Why."

"I just…I can't commit right now. I have too many things going on. I have these issues with my parents, I have all these things I have going on right now and it just isn't fair to you."

I just stare at her. I can't believe it, this can't happen not again, not with the one I love.

"It doesn't matter to me!" I begin desperately just saying anything "I know we haven't seen each other much this week but I mean we can work this out."

"I'm sorry I just can't."

She kisses me on the cheek and leaves, and that was the last time I saw her.

But why do I tell this? What relevance does it have? Maybe to a person it has no meaning and is nothing more than a dramatic soap story. But to me it means more than that. It reminds me however harshly that I am Human, that I had a life outside this. Which is difficult to remember at times?

I hate myself. I know it was my fault that she left me. I know I did everything wrong. Since then she has been constantly on my mind and I am always waiting for her, but what if she doesn't want me back? What if she finds someone else? What if I'm forgotten? I can't bare the thought. Images of my mother flash before my mind and my sister blends in with them. I wonder how she is doing, if the sickness has caught up with her. She can't have much longer.

It is night time and the sky is clear, the moon shines brightly down on us through the shattered windows, a massive fire rages somewhere in the distance lighting up the horizon and creating a great wall of smoke and ash. I am sitting up against a weight bearing pillar just starring out into nothing, waiting for something to happen, but nothing comes. Nothing will happen and I know it. But it is it that I want to happen? Do I want her to appear magically before my eyes and tell me that everything is all right?

Maybe.

Lodawski is on the other side of the room treating wounded soldiers. Their cries of pain and their moans of agony are hell to deal with. It must be even worse for Lodawski. Sometimes I don't know how he does it. I just can't understand how he manages to keep his cool when plugging up leeks caused by guns and grotesque injuries that sometimes even make me want to vomit. However, sometimes I can see the beginning of what looks like the end of his tolerance.

Captain Sturges and the other officers are huddled in a corner around a map talking and devising. There is most likely going to be a patrol. I push my thoughts of home to the back of my mind as they stand up and call my squad and another squad over. We huddle around those of us in front are on our knees and those of us in back stand.

"Word is that we have gooks moving to reinforce a sector of the city that we need. We're going to stop em'. "

We are walking through a series of bombed buildings. All that is left of them are the jagged, wrecked frames. The ceilings have been torn off and the clear sky can been seen with ease, but we do not have time to look up and appreciate, we have a job to do.

"Hear Khe San is under siege" Says Swanson, breaks for a hard drag in his cigarette which glows in darkness "Lucky fucks, all yeah got to do in a siege is sit in a trench or a bunker and wait the for the dinks to run at you like a bunch of screaming hookers."

"How many hookers run at you screaming?" Maleev asks.

"More than you'll ever get." Swanson responds coldly. He really doesn't like Maleev.

"Hey I get enough." Maleev counters defensively.

"Yeah but I bet they charge double, triple even."

Several men chuckle including myself.

"Shut the hell up." Strom Says angrily "Swanson, put that cigarette out. I want complete light and noise discipline that means no smoking and no talking unless absolutely necessary. So Swanson keep your damn trap closed and Maleev quit your whining."

Strom wasn't joking around although it sounded like it, you can always tell when he is really serious because he always is.

We reach the site where we are to ambush the enemy. It is a small community of houses, houses for wealthy people, large, spacious empty, shattered. The houses run parallel to each other and there is a long concrete road in between. The enemy will have to move down this road so we set up a trip wire close to where we plan to mow them down with our 30 calibre machine gun which we have set up on an outcropping in a knoll on the right side. On the left is my squad set up in one of the houses. The rest of second squad is on the left side of the road, Maleev and another of our men are up ahead as advance lookouts. According to the captain that we should only be facing VC poor, untrained, fanatic Vietcong. It is night and they will not see us. A whole two hours pass as we wait and it begins to rain, gently at first but soon its weight increases and it is a full on shower. We do not talk we only wait. I am alone with my thoughts for now, this is bad I shouldn't be starring off but I can't help it I stare blankly at a wall. A picture hangs crooked on the wall, the frame is broken and the glass cracked. The picture is of a family, two happy, loving parents and their daughter. Something starts to rumble, and the picture begins to shake.

"What the hell is that?" Swanson whispers to me.

I look out my window and try to see what I can, nothing is visible yet. The rumbling gets louder and the picture shakes more violently.

"_First squad be advised, NVA convoy moving your way about a platoon of infantry accompanied by a T-62. Over" _

Every man looks to one another.

"Keeps your heads up." Orders Sergeant Strom.

I shoulder my rifle and take aim. I can feel the rumbling of the tank run through the ground. I hear the picture fall and smash on the ground behind me. The enemy is coming into sight they have almost reached the trip wire. Gun shots suddenly ring out in Maleev's direction but I can't see him. I can see the first few enemy soldiers; they've almost reached the trip wire. They move slowly with their A-ks held at their hips, looking like they suspect something, they sense it they know we're here. Suddenly one rushes to the head of the line and stats yelling, he's seen the trip wire.

"Do it!" Strom yells to the private with detonator.

The private clacks the hand held device three times as quickly as he can and the explosives go off. The lead soldiers are engulfed in the explosion and we all open fire.

Across the way I can see the muzzle flare of the 30 calibre machine gun, two Vietnamese fall. The element of surprise has fallen quickly and now the enemy are beginning to take cover. In front of each home is a waist high stone wall that parallels the road. Flurries of bullets rip at my cover and send bits of wood flying in all directions. I quickly switch positions and begin to fire. Dust and bits of brick float and fly off the enemy cover. I manage to strike one in the head but at the same time they take down one of our own men. Corpello is screaming violently. He stands up and holding his rifle at his waist and fires half his magazine at the enemy before rolling back behind the wall just in time to avoid enemy gun fire. A grenade flies in through one of the windows and hits me directly in the chest. Momentarily I take in the pain but I don't have time, I grab the stick grenade by the handle and whip it sideways as hard as I can back out the window. It explodes on our side of the wall and blows a hole in it. The thirty calibre shifts its fire our way and in a flurry of blood, screams and dust the Vietnamese on our side fall.

The tank has now rolled into view. The long barrel of its main gun aims up towards the thirty calibre, fires with an ear chattering roar and the out cropping explodes. There is no way they could have survived the blast.

I hear Strom yell my name as he runs out of the house. I get up quickly and follow him. The rain has turned the soil of the houses front yard soft and I loose my footing and trip, but I never stop running. My knees scrape along the ground, but I force myself back up and follow. Strom is running over to the tank, but he isn't fast enough. The mechanical beast has already aimed its cannon down at second squad's house and fires. The whole structure goes sky high and second squad is gone. Strom reaches the tank and jumps up onto it furious. I run to the back and take aim and fire at advancing Vietnamese. Maleev was wrong there is easily more than a platoon. Strom rips open the hatch and takes a grenade out. The gun is already turning towards our house Strom tears out the pin, the tanks gun is aimed, Strom through the grenade down into the cockpit and jumps off. A muffled explosion shakes to the tank and with a mechanical hiss the tank dies. Our squad moves in and we take up position around the disabled tank. The enemy is firing back. Bullets ping off the hull of the tank and strike the earth around us.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Strom yells.

All of us turn and run back for the house. Two our men are struck down but gun fire. An NVA soldier with a rocket propelled grenade launcher fires. The rocket leaves a white smoke trail in its wake. The rocket wheels by us and flies on into the night. What is left of us run into the house Corpello is last and as he runs in a bullet rips into his leg.

"FUCK! They fucking got me!" I whip around to see him crawling through the doorway. Swanson and another drag him in and lean him up again the wall next to a window so he can still shoot back. Bullets are ripping apart our position and the RPG fires again shattering a wall.

All is over. There is no way we can survive this we are outnumbered, outgunned and out of hope. Yet we still fire back, out of fear. We are too scared to stop, we have to shoot, and we have to prolong this fight as much as possible. Everything has gone into what feels like slow motion. All the sounds are starting to dim, and I just fire bullet after bullet. I am not even aiming anymore.

All of sudden a hiss and a screaming wail emanate from the sky and an explosion rocks the ground. Artillery is coming down, but not on us. Shells are raining down on the enemy and the tide is finally turning. The enemy begins to retreat in a storm of fire and debris and it is over, just like that.

My heart starts to slow down, beads of sweat trickle down my face and sound comes back to me accompanied by a ringing. It doesn't quite feel like anything has happened it seemed to go by so fast. Maleev is running across the road to us. He called in the strike, he saved us.

"Maleev get on the god damn horn and call for relief! Corpello, Swanson takes up positions…" Strom immediately quiets when something shifts behind us. We all spin around and level our rifles in the direction the sounds came from. Something runs across the room and into another. I don't know why but I began to move closer the doorway it had run through. With my rifle shouldered and my index finger gently caressing the trigger I moved in. The figure was in the corner huddled up in a small ball, sobbing and crying. A ray of moonlight shone down upon it from a hole in the ceiling and I could see that it was small girl, the same girl from the picture. I notice a light switch on the wall next to me, I flick it, the light flutters on and in the opposite corner are two dead bodies both drenched in blood. For a moment I just stand. I've seen dead bodies before, I've killed before why does this at all bother me? Why does the blood smeared on the walls, and the puncture wounds in the two victims and their sad, stiff faces and the little girl in the corner crying her eyes out in fear bother me?

"What is it?" Strom says as he shoves me aside to see what it is I am looking at. He looks from the two dead bodies to the crying girl and the back to the bodies. "There's nothing we can do for them" His voice is shallow "We'll take the girl with us. The trucks will be here and ten minutes."

Strom leaves the room. I sling my rifle over my shoulder and slowly walk over to the girl. She must know I'm here, but she continues to cry. For some inexplicable reason I just can't understand why she keeps crying. I am not going to hurt her. I want to help her. Does she not know that that's why we're here? I just stand in front of her for a moment and look down. She is so small, how can this happening to her? Did she kill someone? Did she rape and beat a woman? Want did she do that should warrant this kind of pain and suffering?

I bend down and simply pick her up. Word will be useless. She doesn't resist, and her crying reduces to a mere sobbing. She curls up into and even tighter ball.

I walk back out into the house, the trucks have already arrived. We board them and leave.

"Who's the kid? Girlfriend of yours?" Says Swanson.

I look at him angrily and he knows I'm serious and looks away.

Everyone is silent for a few moments until Strom speaks up. "They're gonna shell this area with the 15mms. We're heading back to base camp, Sturges and the rest of the platoon will meet us there."

I look down at the girl; she has stopped crying and has fallen asleep.

I am laying on top of my cot, back in at the base inside my platoon's barracks the one place in this whole damn country where I can begin to relax. But I find that whenever I try something always comes up, something bad. Inside with me is the rest of the platoon and what is left of my squad, all five of us save Strom who is out and about somewhere in the base.

"Heard that convoy we fucked up was headed to attack the base." Corpello says before lighting a cigarette.

"By itself?" Swanson Replies confounded.

"No not by itself idiot! It was going to link up with more gooks and then attack."

"Well say that next time."

"How do you know?" Asks Maleev.

"That's what I heard from Sturges, says we aught to be ready for an attack, a big one to."

"Let em' come, we can take them. We always do."

"That's why we've been here for so long, that's why we just lost a full squad and almost our own squad." Maleev interjects coldly and sarcastically.

"You know what" Corpello begins seriously "Maleev every day you look more and more like a gook. One of these days I'm gonna mistake you for one of them and put a bullet right in your big ugly fucking head."

Maleev begins to reply but at that moment the door swing open and standing there in the doorway are the new recruits. The first of them hesitates in the doorway as we all look at them. He looks to each of us until the man behind him gives him a shove and he continues into our barracks. The whole room is quiet as our entire platoon stare at them in resentment. I feel it to. I do not like the idea of these men replacing our fallen. I know that I am not much of a veteran but I feel like I have authority or seniority over these men, I feel like there is a way I should be acting. I feel as though I should show no warmth or extend any hand of friendship to them.

Corpello stands up next to his cot and stares at one in particular. He beats him down with a malicious glare. The replacement can feel it and tries not to look at Corpello.

Silently I stand up and leave the barracks.

The girl still weighs heavily on my mind. It has been a full day since we returned back to the base. The girl was taken to a refugee camp in and around Saigon around the middle of the day. Her parent's bodies are still back in that house, rotting.

The night air is cold. I pull a thin white cigarette out of my breast pocket and stick it in my mouth. Smoking had never been a habit of mine, but I had started recently just because. If I ever had to prove this I could do so easily right now as I groped each of my pockets for fire but sadly realized that I had none, obviously not very professional.

"Need a light?"

I look over to my right and standing there with a Zippo in his extended hand is Strom.

I nod in silent appreciation and take it, light the cigarette and hand it back. As I inhale I can feel the small hairs on the inside of my throat disintegrate and I let out a lurching cough. Again, not very professional.

"Still thinking about that girl and her parents?"

I don't answer. He knows that I'm thinking about it. Isn't he?

"I've been here since the beginning. I've seen a lot of crazy fucked up shit and trust me it never goes away."

Why are you telling me this? We begin to walk through the base. Not much is going on, some men walk past but it is only the sentries who are on edge. If something happens, then they are going to be the first to deal with it.

"You just have to learn to deal with it. This won't be the last time it happens. Hell, you might even be the one to cause it next time."

I stop dead in my tracks. How could I cause such suffering?

"You never know what could happen. You could be shooting at gooks one moment and then the next you'll find the corpses of civilians that you might have killed. When you're in the most fucked up country in the world shit happens get used to it."

With that he walked away. I just starred at his back for a few moments and thought about what he said. I knew that things heavily relied on chance here but I couldn't believe that I would ever do that, that I could ever destroy a family on such a way.

I feel angry and I take another long tug on my cigarette. Images of my sister crying in the corner along my mother, drenched in blood across from her find there way into my mind and anger build up inside me. I through the cigarette away and continue on my walk.

I step onto the brown military bus that is bound for the airport so we can fly over to Vietnam. Boot camp is over, the real thing is about to go down. I feel tenseness in my stomach. I am scared, and I have no one to turn to. But I keep my cool and act as if I do not care. I am first on the bus and I move straight to the back and take a seat next to the window. I begin to remember my last few memories of this place I have called home, my stay with my family, my break up with my girlfriend.

The rest of my platoon gathers on and I end up next to Roger Hayes.

"How ya doin' big guy?"

I have always been quiet, and Hayes has always tried to get as much out of me as possible.

"My dad fought in W – W two there eh. Bet yours did to. Mine was a gunnery sergeant. Told me He killed a lot of Nazis. Told me to watch myself and said Its better to be the one talking about how many people you killed than the one to be talked about if you know what I mean."

I nod; hopefully my silence will deter him from talking to me. My efforts are fruitless.

"Got a girl?"

I shake my head.

"Just as well I guess. Less people to worry about… I wonder who worries more the family and friends of the soldier or the soldier himself. The family I guess worry about the well fare of the soldier while the soldier worries if anyone misses him."

I look at him briefly. The Hell is he talking about? I really wish he'd shut up.

I suppose Hayes had a point. I hardly worry about my own life and worry constantly about my parents, my sister, her. I do wonder what they're feeling, if they still miss me or if they have gotten over it. I worry if they are in good health and I always miss them. Hayes was one of the four to die at the road block, how did his loved ones react? Are the over it? Did his mother suddenly feel a sharp pain in her chest the instant her son died and know that something wasn't right? His name will one day be erased from all memory and no one will care. Yet he may be one of the greatest people to ever live. We die like cattle for our people and go through the unbearable so that others won't have to and yet we are so easily forgotten and even hated by those we fight for.

Lodawski has been in the army and fighting in this war for a long time. He has seen countless atrocities. I can remember back at the roadblock, one of the four men to die was lying on the ground choking and bleeding to death, he had so many holes in him Lodawski couldn't cover them all, the man was coughing up blood and was crying, twitching and he said to Lodawski "Save me". There was nothing Lodawski could do and I looked at him and watched as tears welled in his eyes as he knew he couldn't save him, he knew he would have to let the man die. He had seen so many die and he could only save a select few and every time one slipped through the cracks it was to him like he personally killed them. He was the kind of person who was always hard on himself and that's what weakened him the most.

The replacements are beginning to fit in after a few weeks with us. They haven't seen much in the way of real action, yet. We've been on a few patrols not far from the base in which we occasionally run into small parties of VC but nothing serious. There have been a few rocket attacks on the base but so far no one has been seriously injured. This rumour of a major offensive on our base have not yet come to pass and many are starting to doubt that anything will happen. It has been a wile since our last fatality. Most people would think that this is a good thing and it is but from a soldier perspective it is different. Its like a bomb just waiting to go off, we try not to think about it but in the back of our minds we know it is going to happen and when it does that bomb is going to go off.

"The enemy probably don't have the man power to make anymore major assaults" Says Swanson "Sturges says that it will only take a few more pushes to get em' out of the city."

Maleev gives a different view "Chances are the closer they come to defeat the more chances they are gonna take. It's like backing some dangerous animal into a corner we don't know what they'll do but I bet its going to be big."

Another week later the offensive still has not come and even Maleev begins to doubt and drop his guard.

My boot splashes hard into a puddle as I run to the corner of a wrecked building. It has just rained and everything in this shell shattered part of the city is wet and slippery. We are fifty clicks north of the base and in a district of the city once known for its poverty and poor repair status which now is worse than it ever could be. I hear people back home complain about poor neighbourhoods, they should see this place.

I press my left shoulder up against the corner of a three story apartment building, the roof of which has completely caved in and aim my rifle down a rubble choked plaza. The sky in the distance in an ominous orange tinted with blood red due to a raging fire that has engulfed another portion of the city.

I motion the men forward and they leap up over a pile of rubble and into the plaza. As the first of them move forward I spot a figure in black pyjamas run across the open. I let loose a flurry of bullets at him but hit nothing but air and rubble and he makes it to cover unscathed.

As if on queue an ambush is triggered. From the windows and roves of the building around us VC are firing at us. Two men are downed instantly. I fire at the top of the building across from me. One enemy goes down and another is forced back. The blooper coughs out a grenade and destroys another position and the M60 howls a familiar tune as it does its savage job and rips apart the men in the windows. We are American we can't be stopped. Adrenaline pumps through me as I fire into the plaza and strike down a man, but he is not alone. The man had been running for a mound of rubble with five others. Three of them start laying down covering fire with their AKs while the other two set up their fifty calibre machine gun.

An rocket propelled grenade comes screaming at us and explodes just short of my squad who have taken shelter behind mounds of debris. Fifty calibre rounds hiss around me as I run to join my men just barely missing me. I reach cover safely and go prone. Another rocket explodes near by and bits of black rock falls on us. Next to me is our M60 gunners trying to fix his iron sight on the enemy gunner but his efforts are in vein. Hit in the left shoulder and then in the right and the neck, head and chest the gunner staggers back and falls stiffly to the floor. The gun drops and no one goes to pick it up. Corpello is on the other side of me along with two of the new recruits. Corpello lugs a grenade without leaving cover but the explosive falls short and explodes harmlessly. One of the recruits next to him tries to follow Corpello's example in hopes of proving his worth to us. He pulls out a grenade, stands so that he is above cover and exposed and before he can through a bullets tags his grenade and it explodes in his hand. His arm is blown off from the elbow down and he is sent hard backwards. He is screaming on the ground blood covering him and his half gone arm twitching and pumping out more blood. Lodawski runs over to him but he freezes and he just stares at the screaming soldier.

He can't function, he can't save him. He is scared, terrified, failure is stabbing itself into his mind. Lodawski begins to stand I yell at him to stop but he is upright before anyone can do a thing. With a metallic ding a round pierces through the back of his helmet and out his forehead. He falls next to the screaming private, who doesn't even notice him.

Corpello can't stand this. He levels his rifle and fires a single shot at the wounded recruit. The round rips up through his jaw and into his brain killing him instantly. The other recruits are stunned. In Corpello's mind the bomb has gone off.

Corpello yells my name and beckons me to follow.

"You all stay here and cover us all right. Once that gun is down move up and link up with Strom. Matches, you're in charge." He calls him matches because he is always taking matches of him to light his cigarettes.

We both get up and run for one of the apartments. The recruits are firing at the gun and giving us as much cover as they can but they can only do so much. A burst of bullets rip all around us as we run but we make it into the building unharmed.

As we begin to climb the twirling stairs an NVA soldier descends down faster than either of us can anticipate. He and Corpello collide on the second story landing. Corpello is much bigger than the small skinny Asian and he stumbles backwards giving Corpello the edge in the fight. Corpello slams his fist into the mans face, his brass knuckles giving the blow an extra punch and he keeps wailing on him furiously. Up on the third story landing though another enemy sees this and levels his rifle waiting for Corpello to shift so that he can have a clear view of fire. Luckily I already have one. I aim and fire three rounds all of which hit and the man drops. I look over to Corpello who has finally finished with his victim. He picks up his rifle and we continue the climb upwards.

We reach the roof and dispose of two more enemy soldiers. We rush to the edge where we have a clear view of the enemy gun and fire down. Quickly we dispose of the enemy gunner team save one who manages to escape before either of us can tag him.

The recruits begin to move up to the abandoned position and I can see Strom and two other squads meet them.

"Fuck!" Corpello yells. Before I can comprehend what's going on I am thrown to the ground just before a rocket explodes and sends fire and debris all over me, but not Corpello. The rocket has hit him directly and there is absolutely nothing left of him. Blood is smeared all over me along with bits of flesh and tattered uniform. I am horrified, my eyes refuse to blink and my instinct stands still.

My grandmother's funeral, I am only eight years old and I stand in front of her open casket. Flowers are placed all around in hopes of bringing some joy to those who morn and paint a pretty picture for the deceased. I stare at her; she is simply lying there cold, still, silent, and dead. I was never that close to her, but I did love her. My family and I would always visit her once a year at her home in the country. A small house in the middle of nowhere. Hidden by trees and only accessible through dirt and gravel roads that led off from the main highway. She lived alone since her husband had died in the Second World War. I used to love sitting out under the stars on the front lawn at night, the cool air blowing through me softly. It was always so different than the city. When we would drive up there I always thought of it as leaving all my problems and worries back in the city and the country seemed that much purer.

I look upon her, the first dead body I ever saw. I just starred at her. I imagined her rotting and slowly becoming part of the earth. I may have only been eight but this death affected me in a way I would never have expected.

I am running down the stares as fast as I can, I have not bothered to wipe any of the blood off. I head back to my men, they are all sheltering behind buildings and rubble. Strom yells at me to stop and I comply and crouch behind a building corner.

"There is a sniper somewhere down the street I can't see him." Says Strom.

I take my helmet off and slowly peer around the corner. It takes me a minute or two but I soon catch a glimpse of the shine from the sniper's scope. I flip my helmet back on and I spring into action.

I burst from my cover and run across the open. The sniper sees me and fires. The round slams into the earth next to me and sends off a large puff of dust. I reach a building across the plaza and another round smacks into the doorway as I step across the threshold just missing me.

I run like mad up the stairs and reach the second floor. There is a man there and I quickly gun him down. Several RPGs are standing upright in the corner along with plenty of ammunition. I briefly peer out one of the windows I have a perfect view of the sniper's position. He doesn't see me and is more concentrated on the sergeant's position. My rifle won't have the range to ensure me a kill, so I prop it up in the corner and take an RPG. I lug it over my shoulder and step out and aim it at the sniper. He sees me. In a split second I fire and he fires back. The bullet reaches me first and rips through me, the rocket streaks towards the target and makes its mark. I just stand there for a moment, I drop the launcher and it clambers to the floor. Blood begins to stain my uniform, the bullet has penetrated straight through my chest. My eyes begin too blur and my legs begin to shake. I can hear a high pitched ringing in my ears. The sun is beginning to shine through and spreads over me like a golden blanket. Soon I am on my knees, a tear a single lonely, and salty tear streaks down my face and I fall face first onto the floor. I still have some vision, as blackness seeps into the corners of my eyes I see a figure run into the room and I slip into unconsciousness.

Waves from the vast depths of a great ocean are cashing on the soft sandy shore in front of me. My toes dig in and I can feel the cool, wet sand buried underneath. The sky is completely covered with grey clouds and the winds pace begins to quicken and its power strengthens. My uniform is gone, my rifle is no where to be seen. I stand there in shorts and a white button up shirt. My hair is now longer than military standards and I feel free and relieved.

A pair of arms wrap themselves around my stomach and my love rests her head on my shoulder and stares out at the waves with me. All the tensions in my stomach and body disappear and I feel happier than I ever have before. We just stand there, silent and calm. My problems have disappeared; everything is in its right place. My guard is down for the first time in months. I know there is no chance of snipers picking me off and no chance of a mortar round blowing off my arms and legs, just calm.

I like the silence; I like the sound of the crashing waves. All I need is you, all I need is to know your hear and that you need me. After a time she unwraps her arms and speaks "Let's go back inside." She says with a warm smile as she grasps my cold hand snugly, her fingers intertwined with mine, instantly I feel warm and not even the cold winds can change that. We turn from the ocean and begin to tred through the sand to a small cottage just back from the beach.

So this is what death is like.

We reach the cabin and step inside. Everything is spotlessly clean and take in all my surroundings. This is what I want, peace and quiet. Not the noise and distractions of the city just the peace and quiet of a place like this.

She has disappeared into one of the rooms in front of me I hear a laugh and follow her into a room. I step over the threshold I catch a glimpse of her elegantly slide into another room. I follow.

Stupid bastard, how could he take such a foolish risk? Although I have to give it to him he did get his target and pretty much save our men even if he did pay for it.

"Call in a med evac Maleev!"

Maleev is instantly on the radio. I am struggling to get the bandages on the private. Without Lodawski it is tough since my job is not save. I press the bandage tightly across his wound but he continues to bleed.

"Why isn't this working god damn it!" I yell in frustration.

"Sergeant Strom" Swanson says to me "I think it went in and out."

We roll the private over and sure enough the bullet has protruded out his back.

Desperately we begin to bandage him; I leave the job to Swanson, a corporal and another private.

"Maleev what's the status on that Med evac?"

"Ten minutes sir."

Ten more minutes, it's going to be the longest ten minutes of my life. I look around for something to use as a stretcher, a piece of wood anything but nothing is available. We need to get him outside so the helicopters can pick him up. Finally I notice the door. We break it off its hinges and once he is bandaged we place him on top and begin to carry him downstairs. As we enter the plaza and explosion goes off and knocks over the stretcher bearers sending the wounded private crashing limply to the ground.

I smile as I follow her slowly through the house, she leads me upstairs. A smile spreads itself across my face. She goes into one of the far rooms at the end of a carpeted hallway and I know the chase is over.

I fire at the enemy who are situated across the plaza and the base of one of the apartments. Bullets zing past me and the others. Several men are going around collecting our dead and placing under cover for the helicopters. The only one alive is the young private. A chopping sound begins to emanate form over head somewhere and grows louder and louder until a Huey soars overhead and flies over our position. The side gunner opens up on the enemy as it turns round for another pass. A second one comes in and follows the exact path of the first firing down on the enemy. The first helicopter then lands blowing up dust and pits of paper and litter and whatever is not heavy enough to stay stapled to the ground while the other hovers above, its M60 firing furiously at the enemy. We load the wounded private on first and the medic on board begins to treat him as best he can. Then we load the dead on. I look across the plaza and spot an RPG. The launcher fires at the hovering helicopter. They try to pull back but the pilot has not noticed soon enough and the rocket hits the tail. Spinning out of control like a twister the helicopter falls sideways and crashes into an apartment building between our position and the enemy. The explosion is thunderous and view of them is lost behind fire, smoke and debris. The first helicopter is having engine problems and can't seem to lift itself. The plaza is clearing up quickly and before long I can see the enemy and they can see us. Another rocket is fired; my eyes follow it as it races for the first helicopter. My heart skips a beat as it barely misses the cockpit and screams through the mid section of the helicopter not hitting anyone and races out the other side only to reel upwards and trace a twisted pattern of white smoke in its wake before it angles down and explodes into the ground. Someone up high must really like us. I take aim and fire at the rocket jockey, my M16 kicks against my shoulder for every bullet I fire. The man escapes and survives.

I have reached the bedroom and it is empty. The windows on the other side are wide open like a pair of loving arms and the wind gently blows the white, silk curtains into the room. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I am spun around and embraced by her lips, her warm tender lips. After a long passionate kiss we slowly pull away but all is not right. Her face has become blackened and skin is pealing off it. Her gums are visible and the bones in her hands are white and bare where her rotting skin has fallen off. I want to scream, I want to run but my lungs won't work and my legs are frozen to the spot.

"You are not welcome here!" She lets out a harsh, unforgiving scream at me almost making my ear drums explode and everything around me disappears and we are pitched back into sudden blackness.

I awaken suddenly and stare up at what appears to be a paneled ceiling. I sit up straight and see that I am in a hospital. Across from me and beside me are rows of beds carrying patients, wounded in the war. The whole room is clean and white predominates the whole place. Nurses are walking back and forth treating and chatting with patients. My heart and mind are racing, but as the peaceful atmosphere settles around me I calm down and fall back into my pillows. Something doesn't seem quite right about this. I feel awkward and I feel like I should be doing something more. What did she mean when she said "you are not welcome here"?

A pain runs through my body and I look down. My chest is bandaged up and from the sudden movement of me bolting upright I feel weak, this is also due to my lack of blood.

A nurse walks over to me and asks me if everything is all right. I nod and she walks away.

"Wait." I say quickly. She turns around and walks back over to me with a look of inquisitiveness that I assume is sincere.

"Where am I?"

"We're in Quang Tri right now. It wasn't hit so hard in the recent offensive so you have no need to worry."

"How long have I been here?"

"A few days. Your actually recovering quite well, but you shouldn't move around too much so for the next few days you should just stay in bed and relax."

I nod and she walks away. I think about what she ahs said. Relax? I'm not sure if I can.

The next few days pass by quickly and soon I am able to walk and move around the hospital. The nurse's name was Betty Molson. She has a slim figure and a cute, small face. Her voice is sweet and over the days and weeks we slowly get to know each other more and more. I help her with her daily duties as much as I can by sweeping, mopping and just talking to her. She mentions to me that most of the patients she treats treat her as if she isn't human; they are rude obnoxious and sometimes just crude and sexist and perverted.

However I can't completely blame them. It has been months and years since many of them have had any really human contact with someone not part of the war and many have not seen a woman and certainly not one this attractive since they left home. Luckily, for them she is forgiving and can good in everything which is a quality I admire because it is one I have lost a long time ago.

We laugh and live, she reminds me so much of her the girl I loved and one night she invites me to her office where we make love. At first I am hesitant, I feel for a moment like I am betraying the girl who left me, but she gently graces my cheek with her hand and I can't help myself. After that night we have spent almost all out time together. I feel like nothing wrong has ever happened to me. But something isn't right about this. I love her but I am not in love with her and I know it. I sit awake the next night and think. This must have been what she felt like when she broke up with me.

Over the next few days I don't spend as much time with her. I pretend to be feeling tired or feeling ill. However her duties as a nurse also keep her away since more and more patients are coming in.

It is night. Silence reigns over our ward, the only sound that penetrate our ears are the sounds of the security guards footsteps outside in the hallway which grows and dims with his varying proximity.

I can't sleep, my mind working overtime with thoughts of Betty, her and home. I can imagine my sister playing happily in the front yard, completely innocent and ignorant of the bigger, darker, bloodier picture. I hope she enjoys this while it lasts because one day it is going to hit her in the face like a ton of bricks that life isn't always so happy and care free, one day she will be smoothly adopted into society and perfection will be demanded of her and she will have to comply or fail and die.

Sudden voices cut through the silence. They start of dim but quickly grow louder, accompanied by footsteps. Soon the doors swing open and a man on a bed is wheeled in.

"Is this really a good idea? What if the other men don't take kindly to him?"

"Well there's no where else to put him. We'll have the security guard check this room more frequently."

The two nurses transfer the man to his bed and leave. Why would they worry about leaving him with us?

Morning breaks in through the windows and light bathes our ward. My eyes flutter open and again I am greeted with a view of the ceiling. I sit up in bed and look down the room at the new patient that arrived last night. Surprisingly one of the other patients is being held back two of the male nurses who are trying desperately to restrain him.

"Fucking VC son of a bitch! How could they let it in here?"

I look more closely at the patient and confirm that he is Vietnamese. The other patients in the ward don't seem as threatened as the man now being dragged out through the doors and are just as surprised as I am. Although now I know what the nurses were talking about and I understand why they should be cautious about bringing him in here. Although I can not quite see how the man would have known he was VC but all the same when in war, hate has a wide target board.

"Is it true?" I look over and the man in the bed next to me is looking at me with a curious look on his face. I shrug in ignorance and he turns back the other way. The Vietnamese man is unconscious; he is going to have a very rude awakening.

A few days pass by. The man had awakened later in the day in which he arrived and since then has been the centre of growing suspicion. No one talks to him and he makes no effort to make contact with us. He spends all his time merely lying in his bed and looking up at the ceiling. The man who had been dragged out has not returned and for good reason although I did catch a glimpse of him walking outside our ward once.

I am sitting upright in bed one afternoon, reading a newspaper. The article I am now skimming with my eyes is about the progress in the recent offensive which is now being called the Tet Offensive. Dozens of mass graves have been found throughout the city filled with Catholics and Anti- communist supporters and activists. But we won, we pushed those bastards out of the city and saved what few we could even if we have destroyed their homes and left them possession less. Almost every base in the country was hit and co far it has been estimated that we have received around a 1,000 casualties and the enemy around 40,000. We smashed them we utterly destroyed their offensive the difference between casualties in staggering, but at the same time the scale of this offensive was huge and although we have just made a grand spectacle of our military might this will only add to the growing dislike for the war and increase the chance of us being pulled out and loosing. Ending the war is not what concerns me it is the loosing part. IF we loose all this will be for nothing all our men that have died for this, their efforts shall be in vein and all will have been for nothing.

A hospital, is supposed to be a place of healing and a haven from violence, but in this country violence can be found anywhere and has no shame. Part of the ward to my right explodes inwards and several patients are caught up in a deadly cloud of debris. I jump up out of my bed and away from the wall as another section on the other end explodes. Quickly I rip the sheets off my bed and take the mattress. I allow for as many other men I can fit to hide behind it with me as we press out backs up against the wall and pull the soft cover in front of us. Other men are doing the same but not a single man invites the Vietnamese to join. With great compassion and the knowledge that I could very well be shunned and harassed for this I call him over.

"The hell are you doing man?" One patient next to me says frustrated.

The Vietnamese patient begins to clamber over to us but another explosion rips into the hospital and he is sent crashing to the ground before he can reach us, but he is not dead. The doors to the ward swing open as more explosions rip through the hospital, shaking its foundations. Through the doors comes in the man. He is carrying in his hand and surgeons knife and he is on a mission. He quickly spots the suspected VC and begins his murderous march over to him. He doesn't even see him coming. The American grabs the Vietnamese man by the jaw and pulls up wards exposing he bare throat. He takes the knife and with precise accuracy and efficiency he slices open his throat and drops his victim. Bloods shoots out of the open wound and spreads across the floor. The killer is standing over the dead victim satisfied with his completion of his objective. But before he can celebrate, or be brought to justice a rocket hits us again and his engulfed in fire. Still alive he runs franticly through the ward screaming in pain. Nobody aids him we simply watch as he jumps out through the window and falls to his death from three stories up.

Soon after the attack seizes and all that is left is s till quiet and a dead man in pool of his own crimson blood sitting and waiting for something to happen.

The next week is hard one. Many were wounded in the attack and the doctors and nurses are working overtime to fix the damage. We have all been shifted to new rooms and everything is incredibly crowded. So I spend as much time as I can outside.

Now I have plenty of free time on my hands and there is something I need to know. When I joined the army I sent constant letters home to my mother and my sister to let them know how I was doing and they would always reply but one day the letters just stopped when I received no reply. I need to know what has happened.

I am sitting outside in the sun on a wooden bench just outside the hospital. I take a stiff drag on my cigarette and inhale the harsh smoke that at the same time the most relaxing thing I can think of right now. Repairs are being done to the building which has dozens of smouldering holes in it. As I flick off the crooked ashes at the end of the cigarette I see a welcome face. The only reason why I am not with Betty right now is because she is busy in the middle of an operation.

Paul Hummel, from Adler. I yell over to him and he walks over to me smiling and happy to see me.

He greets me and we begin to chat for a while about home, war stories and why we're here. Finally the subject of my mother comes up.

"She died." He decides not to spare my feelings and cuts to the chase. However, I am grateful for it, sugar-coating it would have been useless. "Her cancer caught up with her and she just couldn't go on."

"What about my sister?"

She was moved to an orphanage in the city, you know Saint Paule's."

I should be feeling like shit. I should be crying I should be slamming my fists on the wall and wishing that my mother was still alive, but I do not. I just can't. I loved her and I will always miss her but I cannot cry, I cannot share and display my emotions. It is simply impossible. The only conclusion I can come to about this is that it is because of the war. I have seen so many people die and I have killed so many that it just doesn't affect me and I realize that this is why did not love Betty. She is perfect in every way but now after this hell I simply and plainly can't feel love or share it. This is the conclusion I come to and it certainly does make me feel like shit.

It is my last day her I have not seen Betty at all and as I begin to get into a military car I look back. For a moment I think I can see her in a window but the figure quickly disappears. I get into the car and it drives off.

We reach the Quang Tri base and I get out of the car and head straight for the main office. I talk to the attendant and I learn that I am to board a convoy headed to the MAC V base in Hue where I can rejoin my unit. It has been about a month since I have been in Hue and it is like returning to the city, back to all my problems. Nevertheless, at the same time I relieved to be going back. Combat has become my life and I accept this trying to deny it would be futile and so I don't even try. The convoy does not leave until later that afternoon so I have some time to kill. I walk around the base, it is much small than the Mac V compound and I soon learn where everything is.

As I walk along the perimeter of the base I slow down. The base defences have taken a beating and recently by the look of it. Minor shell holes punctuate the ground in front of the pill boxes and bits o the sandbag walls are missing. The line looks undermanned I suddenly remember, I have let my guard down. I feel exposed and I am, if a sniper wanted to he could easily pick me off. I am not even carrying a rifle. I don't want to look like a fool so I turn and leave. I press my back up against the wall of a barracks and take a deep breath.

Finally it is time to leave. I have received a rifle from the armoury and I already have the rest of my gear so all that is left is to climb aboard the truck and head off. The convoy lurches forwards and gradually picks up speed. I look at the hills and long open field around the base. It is very pretty and reminds me of Utah. I think of my sister and mother and I decide that the first thing I am going to do when I return to the world is find my sister and embrace her in my arms.

I look at the soldier in the truck with me, they all look young and just by looking at the worries expression I can tell that they are all fresh. All the veterans are either in the hospital or out in the field where they may never come back. One looks at me and _he _can tell that I am not a recruit. He stands up in the truck, walks over and squeezes in next to me.

"Hey have you been here for while, like have you been in combat?"

I look at him with an almost disbelieving look on my face. "Yeah." I reply.

He wants more "What's it like?"

I think about my answer and then "I'd tell you if it made any difference but even if I did it would not help you. Trust me you'll know soon enough."

He drops the question like a bad habit and moves back to his original seat which I am glad of. I don't feel like talking and I especially don't feel like answering stupid questions.

The trip is long and we have now entered a forested area. We move down a winding road bordered by trees and this time I remember to raise my guard. I have my rifle ready although I do not have my finger on the trigger; I simply have it lying across my lap although this is not how you are supposed have t when riding in a truck. The recruits see me do this and their worries become worse. The lead truck stops and several men get off and go up ahead of the convoy. I try to look over the men in front of me but it is no use. Unexpectedly and explosion rips apart the truck behind us and on queue the forest erupts. On the right side NVA are firing on our convoy with their Ak47s. One man in my truck is struck in the head and collapses to the floor.

"Over the side!" I yell my voice only barely rising above the sounds of gunfire.

These recruits aren't stupid they all jump over the right side and take shelter behind the truck.

"Let's get some fire on them go!"

I go to the end of the truck and aim around. A dozen NVA are coming out through the woods. I fire a spray of bullet from my rifle and down several of them. One of our men tries to run across the open to the destroyed truck but is tagged and taken down. I reload my rifle with quick efficiency switch to semi automatic and fire. A grenade goes off in front of me and I reel back behind the trucks tire. I look back at the recruits, they are firing back savagely. One has a wounded leg and is sitting holding his wound his face distorted tightly under the pain; he looks like he has just swallowed something extremely sour. Two privates are with me; one throws a grenade and takes down an enemy combatant and the other takes two more down with his rifle. Soon the fight is over and we have won. One truck is destroyed and thirteen men are dead along with four wounded. We divide up the dead and wounded into the remaining trucks. As I go to get onto my truck the private I had talked to earlier meets me.

"So how was it?" I ask him.

He looks at me puzzled at first but then he gets it. "It was…exciting." I nod.

"Its going to get even more exciting soon enough."

That felt good, it feels surprisingly to be back in the game.

Night has already fallen by the time we reach the MAC V compound. I eagerly dismount and head to my barracks. I pause at the door, I'm not sure why. It almost seems like the final step before being christened back into my past life. But I quickly shake this thought off feeling it stupid and proceed. I am welcomed by the remaining veterans of my platoon, Maleev, Swanson and several others. There are new faces and they are also quick to join in on the excitement. That night is a night filled of booze, weed, cigarettes and laughter. I can't help but enjoy myself and for the night everything is forgotten.

It is a miracle and a blessing that we did not get sent out the day after. I would have been a complete wreck. This way I had some time to recover from the night before. I spend a lot of the day talking to Maleev. He tells me about how after I was evacuated the offensive finally came. I noticed this on my way in how the base defences were in rough shape and how the buildings around the base seemed even more wrecked than before. He tells me that the battle lasted about an hour or two and by that time the enemy had nearly no fight left in them and that the only enemy combatants left in the city were stragglers and fanatics who don't know when to quit. I find it amazing how a man can believe so whole heartedly in a cause to the point where he will kill and die for it. Maybe it's so strange to me because you just don't seem this kind of dedication back home. These people seem to have a charisma we don't, maybe we're lazy or maybe we don't care but whatever it is I certainly don't give a shit as I stand and stand atop a watchtower gazing into the darkness the engulfs the city.

It is a seemingly perfect day. Sun, blue skies warm weather, magnificent. But appearances can be deceiving.

The whole platoon is walking across a bog made up of shallow murky water, tall slender reeds and old dead trees that are as white as bone. On our right flank is a jungle and on our left is a long road that leads up a slight rise that stands tall above the bog and runs through a village which is our destination. This would almost be as much fun as a walk through a city park on a warm summer's day if the stink of death didn't bathe this country. A snake like convoy of armoured transports is moving up the road along side us filled with troops who are to move on to an objective farther ahead, Hill 180. A slab of land held by the enemy atop which is situated a camp that houses a whole brigade of enemy combatants. For that the whole company of about 500 is to attack including us, but for now our mission is to clear this village before moving on. Eager to get things done and over with we reach the village quickly and climb the rise. One man slips and tumbles down to the bottom, splashing on the dirty water at the bottom. We laugh as he gets up, soaked and plainly put pissed off, but he takes in relatively good stride and we continue on.

The place is a ghost town. Only the swift whisper of the wind is audible as we slowly move in rifles at the ready. A wind chime begins to eerily ring which scares me a little. This whole seen seems typical of the moment before an ambush. The still, calm and then the raging storm. We begin to search the huts, rice containers anything that could stand a chance of hiding enemies or their weapons.

This once used to be a calm little village. Children probably played and laughed together in poverty. Everything here so basic and so out of date. But dose it matter? Do money and technology combined make happiness? I listen closely and I can almost hear the sounds of village life dimly blown about by the wind of history. The thought make me feel melancholy as I feel a bit guilty. Should we really be here? Are we making a difference? I would like to believe so, but I can't see how. Maybe I'm not grasping the big picture. Maybe I should just blindfold myself and let the brass do all my thinking. But I can't. I can't just go to sleep, my conscious weighs to heavy. These villagers have either been killed and the bodies disposed of by the enemy or more likely have fled upon seeing us and our ominous military might advancing on their humble, insignificant home.

Abruptly the still is interrupted when we spot a figure burst from one hut to another. No body tries to shoot him. Three men chase after him and turn behind a hut and go out of view. I would have followed after them but Strom beckons me to his side and I sling my rifle over my shoulder and comply.

"I need you to take command of the squad. Sturges wants me back at the convoy. Make sure the men don't do anything stupid especially Swanson." He is right to say so. Swanson has been on edge lately and has been much more cynical than usual. His tour is almost over and I've seen men before loose control when they know they're almost out. Swanson being someone with little or no morals I begin to worry, especially now that I am being told to keep an eye on him. I confirm my understanding and Strom takes off.

I begin to make my way back to the centre of the village when I here something that peeks my interest. It sounds like a child crying. I begin to walk in the direction I hear it coming from and I realize that it is woman, crying. My pace quickens and I un - sling my rifle. I reach the house from which the noise is coming from. My anticipation building and I kick down the door and level my gun. On the ground is a young Vietnamese woman, her clothes torn, bruises marking her yellow skin and Swanson in the corner doing up his pants. Immediately I know what ahs been done he raped her. My jaw begins to slide down as I look at the girl, sitting in the corner of the hut terrified defenceless. Swanson looks at me with eyes wide with terror of his own. HE knows what I am thinking.

"Come on man." He begins slowly and rightly cautiously stepping over to me with his arms outstretched in a receiving manner as if hoping that I will through at him sincere forgiveness or apologies for catching him and hopes that I will forget this. "We're all brothers here. We kill and die together. Please I beg you don't tell Strom."

How dare he! How dare he through such things in my face and use them as excuses and bargaining tools. I can imagine the Vietnamese girl in the corner as my sister, my mother, Betty, her. He raped her, he stole of her dignity, her self respect and god knows what else. As these thought zoom around my mind a mile a minute I don't realize how close he is to me.

"Come on pal." He says and that is it. I swing my rifle upwards the butt catches his jaw and knocks him flat against the wall.

"What the fuck man!" He protests "She's a fucking gook! She'd probably kill us all f she could! Why the fuck does she matter!"

It's the fact that you are a soldier you son of a bitch! This is not how you fight a war! I have always believed in the thin line between a soldier and a murderer. A soldier is someone who fights for a cause, be it his country, his family, his principles and a murderer is someone with no morals and one who acres not for laws. Swanson is worse that just a killer.

I stare long and hard at the man cowering on the floor in front of me. I want to beet the life out of him. I want him to suffer, but I do nothing.

"Get up." I say.

He staggers to get up. My rifle is levelled at him and his hands are up in surrender and fear that I might do something rash. I motion my rifle in the direction I want him to go and he slowly and not daring to meet my eyes begins to leave the hut. However, I notice his rifle is missing. Gun shots ring out and Swanson's back is ripped apart by bullets. His face distorts and twists in pain as he is sent forward onto the ground. I jump and spin to face the attacker. The girl is sitting in the corner with Swanson's M16 held in her arms. She is shaking as she shifts her aim to me and I do the same. We glare at each other long and hard. Neither of us wants to do the other harm but we will if necessary. Swanson is lying outside the doorway dead and bleeding. Slowly I lower my rifle. The girl keeps her eyes trained on me as steadily as she can. Tears are once again forming in her eyes. I turn and cross the entrance as several men come running over.

They see Swanson dead "Sir what happened."

I look at them and reply "Take his body back to the convoy, on the double."

They comply but two are left looking at me. I know they probably think I killed him but one of them seems to notice the girl inside. I quickly order them away and we move back to the centre of the village.

The man spotted earlier has been caught and is on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. I walk over to him and look him up and down. He looks tired and defeated as our men stand around him. The interpreter speaks up "Where is the sergeant?"

"I'm taking command for now what did he say?"

I have no tolerance right now for any disobedience and he instantly takes my word from the intense seriousness of my voice.

"He said there were VC here a few days ago but they left and headed for that hill. Probably to reinforce hill 180." He added as a side note.

I look over to the right where I can see the hill. Covered with standing tall, covered with trees and sprawling with enemy combatants. At this moment all I want to do is go in a blow the shit out of those bastards. I don't care that they are the enemy; all they are to me are targets. It's not them that make me angry. It's this whole thing, I just want to go in kill them and get the fuck out of here.

"Maleev get on the horn and tell Sturges that the village is clear. Let's get the hell out of here."

Night falls with a steady pace and soon we are pitched into darkness. We are in a field that runs from the base of Hill 180 to the edge of the town. Tall grass conceals us as we stay put in our fox holes. The APCs are stationed behind his out of any lines of fire so that it is only the bare infantry stretched out in a defensive line. The green grass sways back and forth in front of me. The sky is pure black and honeycombed with twinkling stars. As I gaze up at them in appreciation of their beauty I feel small, insignificant. They are beautiful, huge and they are many. We are just small forms of life on a small rock in the middle of an immense void. Everything we do down here from giving birth, to rape is simply paltry. What if we are being watched? What would another life form think of us?

Something moves in the grass. My senses sharpen, and I grab hold of my rifle. Precipitously gunshots ring out form the left and then the right and then from straight ahead of me. A bullet speeds past my head as a figure emerges from the grass. I fire a round of bullets back at him and he falls face first in the grass. As quickly as it came the gunfire seizes. It was just a patrol probably trying to get us before we could reach them. Fortunately they did not know we were here.

I take in a deep breath as I relax myself once again and sit back against the rim of my fox hole. My companion next to me is asleep. I look long and hard at him. How the hell is he still asleep? Did he not just hear the gunfire? Why did he not spring awake in horror and fire blindly into the night at the enemy? Has he discovered some sort of secret to war that allows him to sleep well? Paranoia has gripped me. Tension builds in my stomach and I stare into the night my rifle raised at the hip, waiting for some dink to raise his head above the tips of the sharp grass so I can blow it off.

Again a second wave rushes us, this time they are stronger and the gunfire is simultaneous but we repel them. I can imagine what it must look like from above. 136 rifles firing in the darkness, the blinking from their muzzle flares illuminating the darkness like the dazzling stars in space.

(0600)

The sun is just starting to climb into the sky, its rays of golden light shimmering over the peek of the hill. I feel stiff and my bones crack as I move. Yet I am still ready for battle. When a soldier you have to ignore how you personally feel and pretend like it doesn't matter. It's the safest thing for everyone and you have no choice. The whole company is going to attack starting with a charge to the base of the hill supported by tanks from the second armoured division and then a long climb upwards until we either destroy the enemy where they stand or push them to the other side. Anti – air guns are emplaced somewhere up there which means two things, no air support until they are down and we have to take them out. Artillery positions also dot the hillside and will no doubt play a decisive roll in halting our attack, but hey, we've got to have some fun. Jets streak overheard, their thunderous roar almost deafening followed by the deep, muffled sound of their bombs pounding the hillside.

"Attach bayonets!"

Anticipation builds in us all as we fix our bayonets onto our rifles. Surprisingly it feels momentous when I snap my bayonet onto the lug like something about it is special, ominous. We take a few moments to check our gear before the attack. Again we do not think ahead or speculate what might happen, we live for the moment. The tanks begin to lurch forward. This is for you. The whistle blows and we charge into uncertainty.

Artillery shells rip into the soft earth around us sending up smouldering dirt. We keep running we have to reach the base of the hill if we are to escape this first line of defence. Each squad is behind a tank safely keeping a short distance away for when the have to fire. Some are still out in the open and they are the ones who pay first. As we follow our tank we pass a maimed body of one of our men who got too far u ahead. He legs have been blown off and his face is completely unrecognizable. A tank to our right is hit directly and explodes. Two of the men behind it fall back with shrapnel wounds and the rest of their unit tries to help them. All of us would like to help them but we know we can't because we have a job to do. I turn my head forwards and continue. Three quarters of the way across the field the machine guns start to open up on us and this is when we fee a true appreciation for the tanks. Bullets ping off the armoured hulls and stitch trails in the dirt around us. But as I heard as my boot camp drill instructor once said if the you are within range so are the enemy. The tanks begin to fire, their guns sounding like deep kettle drums. For the sheer deepness of the firing I can't imagine that anything could survive their power but I know something will. We are close now to the base defences and I can the tops of the explosions cased by the tank shell over the top of the monster in front of me. The tanks halt and it is now our turn. Sturges is leading our squad and we separate form the tank. Only a few of the machine guns are still active but even they cannot stand our attack. All of us are running full speed at the enemy slit trenches. Sturges is up ahead of us all firing his rifle from the hip. He reaches the first trench and dives in. I can see him lifting his rifle and stabbing down with his bayonet. The rest of us reach the trench and clamber over it. Enemy combatants are firing down from positions higher up. I press myself up against a tree and return fire.

"Get the fuck up there!" Sturges yells his voice commanding and definite over the volume of the gun fire. Alone he begins to charge but is hit square in the chest and fall over like he just slipped on a bar of soap. At first I think he is dead, but I should have known better. The beast gets back up as more bullets streak past him. He stands tall although obviously struggling to keep his balance he begins to scream, deep and powerful. The scene is like something out of a great novel. The man seems almost inhuman and any moment I expect the hand of god to come down and smite the enemy. Three more bullets puncture his mortal flesh and he drops to the ground in silence and humanly dead.

Strom runs up to the front and motions us to move forward. I move from my position behind the tree and go prone behind a broken log. Bullets slam into the wood and I fire back Strom and Maleev are on my right and our M60 gunner is on my left. All our weapons howl and bark at the enemy and their respond in turn. The whole rest of the men are pushing up the hill, the whole place one huge grave.

**(0900)**

Two hours of hard fighting. Two hours of men, of all ethnicities dieing. Bravo Company has been brought in to help. The enemy forces are far stronger than we anticipated. No sign of the AA – guns but their there. Most of the trees on the hill have been destroyed. Craters honeycomb the face of the hill and shooting is non stop. This is no different than back in Hue. Non – stop gunfire, non stop killing it has engulfed this whole country. I feel so sorry for the people who live here and I hope with all my heart and mind that those back home in the US and those in Canada, the United Kingdom and all other countries where war does not predominate, I hope they realize and appreciate how lucky they are.

About a quarter of the way up there is a spot we are using for our wounded where a long stretch of land lowers to make a sort of natural trench with no back. Here the wounded have excellent cover. This is where I am. Maleev is on the radio calling in artillery Strom is conversing with a lieutenant and I am helping to move bodies. All our stretchers are either being used or have been broken so our platoon is helping to move dead and wounded. I am holding onto a man's legs another private is on the other side with his arms hooked underneath the man's shoulders. The patient is bleeding from his chest and stomach. Rain has started to fall and the ground is muddy and uneven. Cold from the rain grips us all and makes everything just a little worse. We set him down next to another wounded man. His face has gone pail and he looks disoriented. WE call for a medic as loud as we can and it takes a good five minutes before one is free. Immediately we leave the wounded man and continue on to another. Melancholy is the only word I can think to describe it, how this makes me feel. The rain adjoined with the suffering of humans all around me. Moving those who are about to die but not helping them. All I can do is put on a straight face and ignore it and just keep focused. Another hour passes of helping medics fight off death and the rains is relentless. Every so often a stray bullet comes our way or a shell crashes close by or in one incident right on top of us. It all feels so slow and painful wrenching our guts out. I remember how I felt when the convoy heading back to Hue was hit how after that fight I felt alive and I felt like I belonged here. Nevertheless, I can't believe I ever thought like that this hell and I want out so badly.

After watching another man die slowly from shrapnel wounds to the stomach I can't stand anymore. I go off a bit down the slope and sit behind a half wrecked tree that looks like it has been sawn in half and pull out my pistol. With my left leg outstretched I take aim. Maybe I can wound myself I can get transferred out of here. I clasp the handle of my pistol with both hands and take steady aim. This is too difficult for me to watch. I close my eyes and turn my head away. I finger wants to pull back on the trigger but it feels like there is an invisible force holding me back. The pain is what I am scared most of. For once I know it is coming I can expect it. Finally I break the invisible force and pull back on the trigger. The gun snaps back and I clench my teeth in anticipation of the pain and yelp a little. But none comes. I wrench open one eye first and then open in the other in astonishment as I realize that I have missed. I drop both my arms to the ground and relax my head up against the tree. The cold, heavy raindrops are still descending from the sky and are pelting my face as if taunting me.

I sigh heavily, my breath lifting from my lips like smoke. I sit in silence for a few moments only listening to gunfire and dim explosions and strangely enough I begin to laugh. At first My brain can't even comprehend why but then the irony and stupidity of the situation kicks into me and I can't help but laugh at myself. A shell explodes near by and I jump, my laughing put at an end. I stand up and I am returned to my previous state, almost. Something however, feels different. The thoughts of death and suffering are still dragging on me but I for some reason I have been imbued with the sense that maybe not all is lost that maybe someone is up there guiding me preventing me from stopping and dictating my path hopefully for the better.

I walk back to the line where I am greeted by Strom who rounding up our men. "We're moving up to the front, get your gear together!"

Within ten minutes all our men are assembled and ready, none of want to miss this. We hate, we want out but when we have to we will do it without question. Not for , the generals are the back, not for our country, not for the cause, but those guys ahead of us who need our help and for each other.

We march upwards quickly and reach our men. We have to go in running because the gun fire is too heavy. Up ahead there is a bunker. Thin view ports mark the front with a machine gun in each.

"What's the word?" Strom yells to another Sergeant as they crouch behind a rock.

"It's a cluster fuck. They have bunkers all around the place. There's an AA – gun on the other side of this one, the other two have been taken out. We have no rockets and we can't get our men close enough to frag it."  
I can see why. In between our cover and the bunker there is no shelter except a dozen dead bodies."

"Think we can smoke it?" Strom replies.

"Got any smoke grenades?"

Strom turns to us "I need smoke grenades on the double!"

One private runs over and displays for the sergeant two unused smoke grenades.

Strom and the other sergeant take them and through. A few moments pass as the smoke expands and fills up the area.

"GO!" We begin to charge up through the smoke. The machine guns are not holding there fire as expected. Tracer rounds rip through the thin smoke and men begin to fall. To make things worse the smoke has not fully covered the area. We exit the grey barrier and find ourselves meters short of the target. The man next to me falls and high caliber rounds shoot up dirt all around us. We fire back but we are not accurate enough to do any damage. I go prone and begin to crawl. I move up to a dead body and peer over it. Neither of the gunners has noticed me. I slip over from body to body as the rest fall back. Soon I find myself only a meter away from the guns. They continue to cough out rounds but none are directed at me. I pull a grenade from off my harness and fumble with it in my hands as I slide out the pin. As I hold down the trigger I take steady aim. I am scared and shaking. With all my energy I heave the explosive over at the target but it falls short and explodes harmlessly in front of it. The guns have not spotted my but still one of them fires down on the ground in front of it. Flurries of bullets trace a pattern around me and I press myself down into the ground as best I can. Again I pull forth a grenade an, prime it and toss it and it soars in through the view port. A few moments pass before it explodes and as the shrapnel fills the small space I pick myself up and charge. Around the side I go with my rifle raised and ready. Two men stagger out bloody and crippled by the grenade and I instinctively cut them down. The rest of the men are moving up past me and I join them . The AA – gun is within view and we take up positions behind rocks and broken tree stumps. Around the gun is a sandbag wall, manned by an unknown number of enemy combatants all firing on us. Tracer round fly back and forth with grenade explosions in between the chaos. I let loose a trio of bullets and strike the soft but impenetrable skin of their sandbag fortifications. I have only split seconds to aim fire before I am forced to retreat back behind cover. Rifles blare in close proximity to my ears and the obnoxious chirping is hard to take and added with the intensity of combat it becomes a challenge even for a veteran soldier but the worst and most foolish thing would be to stop, we can never really stop we can only move forward until our worst nightmares befall us.

Without a shred or a trace of warning a grenade explodes next to me and hurls me without sympathy to the ground. I splash into the cold, wet mud. Shrapnel has pierced my skin and crimson blood soaks me. My muscles and joint feel numb and legs and arms feel like they don't exist. My head is spinning out of control, and again a harsh ringing fills my ears and everything seems to blur. I roll my head sideways and starring at me is Maleev, dead. His eyes rolled back in skull a small hole lies in the centre of his helmet, blood cascades down his face as he stares at me lifelessly. I can't help but read "save me!" from their placid complexion and I want to yell at him "All right!" but I can't he's gone dead in the fucked up country. I can't let this happen to me and I won't.

With every ounce of strength still left in me I force myself to stand. My rifle is next to me and I use it to prop myself up as if it were an old man's cane. I am loosing blood and my brain feels like gruel. The others begin to climb over and around their cover in a charge against the enemy. I try to follow but I stumble and trip. I watch them as they advance without me. I extend my arm forward in a weak and futile attempt to bring them back to me but I collapse and everything goes dark and I am lost.

The house on the beach is nowhere to found. Darkness encircles me and I can't even feel myself. I am merely an entity drifting in the vast waves of eternity. Sounds mean nothing, emotion means nothing, and all that I have ever loved and enjoyed and ever experienced has left me. I simply do not exist. But I must be alive, how else could I possibly be thinking?

Sounds begin to come to me dim at first but they grow louder. Light begins to break through the darkness and soon I can see the countryside below me blurring by and I realize the sound I was hearing is the sound of chopping helicopter blades. Over me is Strom, starring blankly out the side then, the darkness begins to close back around me and I feel a rush of something ice cold rush through my veins. For a moment my mother and my sister enter my mind and my head is consumed with warmth before the ice cold takes over and…

He is dead, lost forever. His name might end up engraved on a wall somewhere after the war is done and over with. But for now we can replace him.

Jane Austin is just sitting in the playground of her orphanage, depressed and friendless. She doesn't want to talk to anyone. Back when she lived at home with her mother and brother she was full of life and the other children loved her and all wanted to be her friend, but here she has nothing. Her mother is dead; her brother has gone to a far land she ahs never heard of before. He may even be dead for all she knows but he can't be because who then will come back to rescue her from this place?

A nun walks over to her and kneels down in front of her.

"Jane" she says her voice filled with sympathy and sorrow "this is for you."

The sister hand the small girl a folded piece of paper. Jane doesn't know what it is and looks at the woman confused.

"It's from your brother."

Jane's heart is filled with relief and excitement and she tears the letter from the woman's hands hastily adding in a delayed thank you. The nun stands up to leave and walks over a few feet away to watch the girl.

Jane opens the letter.

_Jane if you are reading this then this means that I am dead. I'm sorry for ever leaving you and your mother. But do not be scared because although I might be gone I shall always be with you and always remember that I love you. One day you will grow up to be an extraordinary person and I hope only happiness finds you wherever you are. You're smart and talented and I know you will find a way to get through life and all its paths. Never let anyone take away from you what has been granted to you. Think of me as a brother and your friend and never ever forget that I love you very much as does your mother. We will always be together and we will always have each other in spirit. One day you will find me and we will be closer than ever before but until that time comes do not shed a single tear over me. You are young and have so much ahead of you. Shine for me._

_Love_

_Derek _

When I'm at the pearly gates  
This will be on my videotape, my videotape  
Mephistopheles is just beneath  
and he's reaching up to grab me

This is one for the good days  
and I have it all here  
In red, blue, green  
Red, blue, green

You are my center  
When I spin away  
Out of control on videotape  
On videotape  
On videotape  
On videotape

This is my way of saying goodbye  
Because I can't do it face to face  
I'm talking to you after it's too late  
From my videotape

No matter what happens now  
You shouldn't be afraid  
Because I know today has been the most perfect day I've ever seen.

(Radiohead – Videotape)


End file.
